Poetry

Category

BLACK TEA

Suppression supersedes my simmering mind I quiet myself Lowering the temperature So my sadness stops squeaking out   I’m sick of voicing my own sorrow Sick of sickness Hungering for warmth in my chest That first sip that slips past my vital parts   Now I write to peeling walls and piling wants Sorrow is too tender a word for my mood I sink through sheets of my own schemes My silver tongue speaks to you While I choke on...